


Carnival of Rust

by smilejack95 (SmileJack95)



Category: Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Complications, Escape, Falling In Love, First Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmileJack95/pseuds/smilejack95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarantulas builds an escape pod to get himself off the planet Earth, but Quickstrike has grown on him so much, he doesn't think he can make the trip without him. As if dealing with that wasn't bad enough for Tarantulas, Blackarachnia shows up to thwart his plans, and take his pod for herself. Content will become explicit in future chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnival of Rust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EnRaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnRaa/gifts).



Carnival of Rust  
Chapter One :: Sunrise Revelations

Tarantulas stood at his console, servos busy with his work, but his mind far away. The spider had a lot to think about, after all. Earlier that day, he had completed his prized project. For days, in secret, he had worked on a salvaged stasis pod, coaxing the burned and twisted metal into a frame for an escape vehicle. It was finally done, and departure was whenever he pleased. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have simply left the wretched planet, with no regards to those left behind. Things had changed, though.

In the short time he was there, Quickstrike had developed from a pain in the aft, to a worthy assistant, and, to Tarantulas’ slight disgust, a potential mate. The fuzor had crept up on him, and got under his protoform. Before Quickstrike, the thought of leaving Earth alone was blissful. Now Tarantulas found himself getting tense at the thought, and reluctantly wondered what would become of his naïve little fuzor without him. He wondered if Megatron would offline him, simply because he was Tarantulas’ assistant, or if he would simply be destroyed by the Maximals in battle. Sure, Quickstrike was tough, and could certainly hold his own, but as of late, the Predacons have been quite slack, and being the smallest of them, most likely would be the most disposable.

Tarantulas sighed, and shook his helm. “I’m becoming a fool…” he muttered to himself, dropping his arms to his sides, abandoning his work. He walked slowly to the opening of the cavern that was currently serving as his lair, and stared out into the sunrise. No-bot was up yet, and all was quiet. He offlined his optics and let the sun warm him, enjoying one of the few things this miserable planet had to offer. He started to think about the times he had shared with Quickstrike, the encounters where he had almost made a move on the fuzor. Working with him had slowly become a torture. Over the course of their professional relationship, the little mech won him over with his bizarre personality, and served Tarantulas with unquestioning and unyielding loyalty. He never complained, never once said no. 

The little quirks in his personality had gone from annoying to endearing, and Tarantulas had caught himself on several occasions wishing to just embrace him, kiss him, frag him, whatever he could get. But he didn’t. He instead settled for finding as many reasons as possible to keep Quickstrike in the lair with him, working on small projects he dreamed up for the sole purpose of convincing Megatron to allow him to work with Tarantulas. He wondered, with some amusement, if any of the other Predacons had caught on to the favoritism. He had, after all, gone through Blackarachnia before Quickstrike came around, and even though her beast mode had been of his choice, and he found her quite intelligent and beautiful, she was treacherous, and he treated her with the respect she deserved; none at all. He had an outright abusive relationship with the black widow, and it was two sided. They hated each other. And every mech there knew it. 

Tarantulas onlined his optics, and retreated back into the dark, cool depths of his lair, and back to his console. Looking around, he realized just how much he would miss Quickstrike if he left him behind. Even though he tried to keep their relationship professional, he truly cherished the time they had together. Everything in this room was done by their combined efforts. He crossed to the hidden compartment in the rock wall where he kept the escape pod, and released the frame from its place within. It was going to be a cozy ride alone, for sure. Tarantulas, after all, was pretty big. For two, it would be…. very intimate. He knew by the measurements he had taken that they could both physically fit, but it was a tight squeeze, and they would be pressed so closely together, it could be counted as interfacing. That thought brought a wave of longing through his circuits, sending a shiver down his body. Tarantulas chuckled to himself, running his servo down the length of the pod. “It is decided, then. You’re coming with me, my fuzor...” He pressed the pod back into the compartment, and slid the rock panel back across it. “Now then… time to wake up, my pet, and we shall start our preparations.”


End file.
